


Though The Truth May Vary

by Dana



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: F/F, F/M, an itsy bitsy bit of time-twisting, but for the sake of this story it IS character death but it is NOT major character death, character death happens but it is not to either of the two main characters (Alex or Maya), so if you don't know how the show ends, spoilers for 2x08, spoilers through to the end of the series based on that character death, this could surprise you, this story works around established canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 13:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3136247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/pseuds/Dana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maya has questions, Alex is seeking answers, but it's all a whole lot more complicated than  that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Though The Truth May Vary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [basaltgrrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/basaltgrrl/gifts).



> Birthday present (originally posted on the **lifein1973** LJ community December 9th, 2014) for **basaltgrrl** who is just wonderful, okay? ♥
> 
> Story contains fluffy highs and angsty lows, Alex's internal monologue (she thinks too much), character death happens in passing (not to either of the main characters of this story, though), plus an itsy bitsy amount of time-twisting, whee.

The Red Lion doesn't seem like the sort of pub a professional police officer like DI Maya Roy would frequent, only there she is, sitting in the far back corner of the lounge, beneath the shadows and the twinkling lights, just as Alex had been told. The air is thick, the lighting relatively dim, the woodwork polished but worn and showing it. There's a certain charm in the agedness of it, how very out of time it seems.

Stranger things could happen... or maybe Maya just isn't as easy a book to read as Alex had first thought. Either way she looks at it, the one thing she's left certain of is that she owes one more to good old Joe from down in HR: he very rarely leads her wrong.

Alex walks over to the bar and orders herself a glass of the house red, inconspicuously enough. She doesn't see the point in hiding her presence here, because they both know that Maya isn't in any sort of trouble. She's tried to make contact with her and perhaps the silence should be telling, but Alex isn't quite ready to throw in the towel. Not now, and not any time soon. She won't get anywhere if Maya runs off, and hasn't she run away already? That's what brought her to London in the first place, after all.

She doesn't know her directly but she knows what her files and her sources have said. For the most part, Maya Roy faces her challenges directly. There's something about Sam Tyler and his accident, the resulting coma, that threw Maya for the loop and sent her packing. Made her act out against instinct, and resulted in her transferring south to London.

Alex can tell a lot about her just from looking at her across the room. How rigid her neck is, she's really wound up: something very pressing is weighing on her mind. The way she holds her head so high: she's looking at everything at once but seeing the little details that make up the bigger picture.

She looks forward to getting to know Maya better. Word of mouth isn't good enough by far.

Alex is only ready to press on once she has her glass in hand – liquid courage, and she hasn't even had her first drink. She moves towards Maya's table with what she hopes is a friendly – if also professional – air wrapped about her.

Maya, of course, notices her. Her gaze locks onto Alex, her hair tumbling back over her shoulders in soft waves – she's rather lovely, striking even, and even Alex can admit that. Maya's eyes narrow as she realises that it's her table that is the end result of Alex's approach. 

Alex has her work cut out for her, but she's up for the challenge. Whatever ends up happening, she's hoping for good results.

She stops. Maya stares at her, not quite glaring. The hostility is a muted thing, soft enough around the edges, the veneer of the new transfer who hasn't quite been able to make herself at home. 'Can I help you?'

Maya's tense, edging closer to standoffish – she's not had the best of luck in regards to fitting in since she'd moved south, Alex had been able to piece that together on her own, and while they haven't formally been introduced Maya still knows who Alex is.

The frown that pushes down at the corners of her lips is as passively aggressive as anything else she's done or said (and she hasn't said much at all). Alex hardly feels daunted, and by that estimation they're already off to a good start. Maya didn't just get up and leave without speaking at all. Alex will press right on.

'Alex Drake – it's a pleasure to finally meet you, DI Roy.' She holds out her empty hand, an unspoken gesture of peace and goodwill. 'I was hoping we might talk.'

Maya's gaze shifts upwards from Alex's hand, back onto her face. 'What about?'

A soft sigh, Alex relaxing her arm. 'Maya – you know what this is all about.'

'Yes, between the messages you've been leaving on my phone and the...' Maya's words trail off with some abruptness, swallowing them both up in the silence that rolls in afterwards, Maya shifting nervously, Alex not lessening her hold on her purpose. Her gaze flicks up to Alex's once more, catches it and holds on tight.

It hadn't been many calls – three, and each time Alex had spoken to her voice mail with an air of detached politeness, but always striving to make her point clear. Maya had never called her back, and that could say something. It could say a lot.

But it could just be that Maya doesn't know what to say.

'Is this a half-hearted attempt to stalk me, or are you trying to make me feel welcome?'

'Maya, I – '

Maya settles back, not to say she's relaxed at all. She gestures to the empty chair across from her, and once she has she reaches for her own glass of wine. 'Sit down, DI Drake – you've found me, let's just go ahead and get it over with.' Glass in hand now, Maya sips at her wine, and as Alex finds herself stared down and pinned beneath that impenetrably dark gaze, she sits, and smiles, the latter in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Lighten this dark mood? It's going to take a lot.

'You say you want to talk, so let's talk.'

Alex nods, still keeps her smile in place. 'Thank you, DI Roy.'

Maya nods in return, mutters something incomprehensible, hides behind her glass once more, another slow sip, swallowing the pale contents down. 'My pleasure, DI Drake.'

Now that Alex has made it this far, where should she start? Not at the beginning. She's only just met Maya for the first time, but somehow she knows they're not quite ready for that yet, which means it needs to be something else instead. As Maya works on slowly draining the contents of her glass, her gaze shifts off into the distance, staring at something Alex can't see.

'How are you adjusting?' That seems like a safe enough point and Maya's attention shifts back onto hers. She blinks slowly, once, then again, and as she sets her mostly empty glass back onto the table, the faintest of smiles stirs at her lips.

'Never really liked London.' The smile softens the lines of her face, and Alex sees the woman their mutual (if rather comatose) colleague Sam Tyler fell in love with: if not in love with, then at least the one he'd dated for more than a year. 'Can't say my opinion of it has changed much now that I live here.'

Alex grins right back at her. 'That's a fair enough assertion on your part, it does take some getting used to. But you transferred here of your own volition. That says something, DI Roy.'

More silence, Maya staring at her with something close to longing in her eyes, longing and confusion, reaching out to claim her glass and busy herself with drinking down the rest of it. The remainder of her wine vanishes in an instant, the faint shake of Maya's hand as she returns the empty glass to its former resting place. She's done with hers now, and Alex hasn't even had the first sip.

Maya bites at her lower lip, shakes her head. 'Call me Maya, please.'

Another gesture of peace, somewhat more intimate than the one that Alex had first offered. 'Only if you call me Alex.'

A faint nod, Maya's gaze flickering back up to rest on her face, the steel in her eyes softened in the dim light. She has a commanding presence, whether she's speaking or keeping silent, and Alex finds herself waiting on Maya's next words.

They come, sooner than not. 'Alright. What do you really want from me, Alex?' Tense, before, and momentarily timid, only now Maya's not backing down at all.

Right, that's her jumping right to the chase, and Alex meeting her stare head on. 'I really do just want to talk, Maya. You know my interest in police officers who have suffered undue amounts of trauma, and... I suppose I must find it somewhat fascinating, your connection to DCI Tyler.'

'But what?' She's pushing for more, knows it has to be there. She's not stupid, and Alex is hardly at her least obvious. Maya knows there's more, and that's a good as guess as any other: and there definitely is more that Alex would like to know.

A slight shrug, Alex reaching for her glass, raising it to her lips. 'It's honestly just fascinating. I'd like to hear your side of the story.' She takes a slow sip of the red, the taste bordering on bitter, too much oak in it. Hardly the worst she's ever had.

Another shrug, a hard roll of her shoulders. 'There isn't a story. Sam was in an accident, and now he's in a coma.' There's something else in her gaze now, the wideness of her eyes – a simple sort of frankness that speaks volumes. 'I was helping his mum out at the start, but I...' Her voice trails off, her resolve seeming to waver. 'I transferred to London because I couldn't stand the stares, and the questions, and the... the expectations. His mum said she understood the reasoning behind my move, but maybe she's just glad I finally left.'

'Still...' Push a little more, only Maya's gaze goes steely, sinking back into that air of standoffishness, that and the tension, that she wears like a shield.

'Alex, please.' She's pushing back, a word, a look, the nervous motion of her index finger as it taps out part of a tune. They've had some progress, and Alex could leave it at that, but Maya's gaze hasn't completely closed off on her: maybe she ran away from Manchester because of the questions, but she still has some questions of her own. 'Haven't I said enough already?'

Maybe they can both help each other out.

She gives Maya the warmest smile she can, reaches out with one hand. 'Can we keep talking about it?' Maya's gaze drifts downwards, from her hand to Alex's, a new frown pushing at the corners of her mouth, just as heavy as the one she'd first worn.

'What more do you expect me to say?'

Their hands are close, almost touching. Alex could stretch her arm out a that much more, bridge that last gap, only she's only made the offer here: Maya's the one who'll have to reach back. Give a little, or a lot – say something, or nothing at all.

She goes on, doesn't mean to whisper: 'It really could help me out – it's not the same sort of trauma, I know, but – well, you were close to the v... you were close to DCI Tyler.'

'Sam and I... we had some... yeah, we were close.' Had Maya meant to whisper in return?

Close – fourteen months was a lot of time to be in a relationship with a superior officer, one Alex knows (from other inquiries, hardly any of them personal) was always a shining beacon of professionalism. She's spoken to a number of Sam and Maya's closer colleagues, acquaintances who bordered on friends, and if there's any truth in what she'd been told, they'd been growing more and more distant, losing cohesion.

That happens. Sam's abrupt coma wouldn't have helped the gulf that was already growing between them, and with Maya's decision to move from Manchester down to London...

Well, that helped even less.

'It's been months now – that had to influence your decision to transfer out of Manchester. It couldn't have been an easy one to make.'

'No... no, it wasn't.' Maya shakes her head, grimaces, her eyes scrunching up as she tilts her head back. Her hand's no closer to Alex's, and maybe Alex should rescind her offer. Take it all back. It's out on the table now, though, and until Maya says differently that means Alex is sure she still has a chance. All she has to do is keep Maya talking, and in doing so she can be the one to fill in the blanks.

'Maya, I'm not judging you. I just wanted to talk.'

'I know, Alex... really, what do you expect me to say?'

'You know what I want: I want to hear your side of the story.'

It's a simple exchange, a quick back and forth. Maya lowers her gaze, then quietly lifts it once more. She stretches her hand out, slides it across Alex's. It's just as simple as the verbal exchange had been, the warmth of Maya's hand. She'd been looking for something since she'd arrived in London, since Manchester had become a thing of the past, and maybe it's as little as her needing a hand to hold.

'And I told you... you know what.' She sighs, shakes her head. Alex's certain Maya will pull her hand away, only the truth is more surprising by far. No, she's not an easy book to read, not at all.

Maya keeps on talking. 'Okay, here's my side of it: there was a lead I wanted to follow, something relating to Colin Raimes – Sam thought we had the wrong man, the evidence didn't point to him, but I...' She pushes onwards, and the more she says, her voice grows that much more soft. 'I wasn't as easily convinced. I went out on my own and I was attacked...'

Alex nods, staring at Maya, and Maya the one who's staring at their joined hands. 'There's nothing about that on record, Maya.'

She tilts her head back, grimaces, one that softens to a weary frown instead. 'I know there isn't. That doesn't stop it from being the truth: I was attacked, and I was abducted. I think I was supposed to die.' Her gaze wanders off once more, perhaps her thoughts do as well. Alex isn't here to call her a liar – she's also not here to call her crazy.

Maya chuckles, shakes her head. 'I know it sounds crazy, but... I remember...' The lines of her lips, pressed together firmly – it takes her a long moment to make herself continue. 'Only then it felt like I was waking from a dream, and somehow it hadn't happened at all. Sam was in a coma, but Sam wouldn't have been in his accident if he hadn't been out on the road that day because I'd gone missing.' She bites at her lip, squeezes Alex's hand more tightly – eventually, she'll have to let off, but it doesn't seem like the right time for Alex to pull back.

So, without a hint of sarcasm: 'That sounds like something of a paradox.'

'Yeah – you see?' Alex sees something, though it might not be what Maya was hoping for. A momentary flash of the truth, sorrow and bone-deep exhaustion, something that oozes from every pore. 'Pretty crazy, isn't it?' Whatever that something had been, it passes away just as quickly as Alex had first noticed it, overtaken by the empty air.

'You were under an extreme amount of stress, but it hardly means you're crazy. Crazy doesn't even start to play a part in this equation.' Still no sarcasm. If anything, Alex is only more interested in further investigating Maya's side of the story. Fascinating doesn't even begin to cover it.

'What does it mean then?' She tugs her hand away from Alex's, and only then does Alex slide her arm back to her own side of the table. She misses that touch in a way that's skin-deep, intimacy and understanding. It's been a long time since Alex had some other hand to hold, and she finds herself in possession of a certain amount of leftover longing now that Maya's pulled away.

It's nearly too much.

Maya's looking at her, studying her intently, waiting on her reply. What can Alex say? Because from all that Maya's told her, Alex knows her response could go any number of ways.

She smiles, reaches for her glass the way Maya had reached for her hand. 'I'm sure if we work together then we can figure it out.'

–  
–

It's easier to find Maya these days, mostly because – with their being friends as well as colleagues now – Maya is almost always happy to say 'yes!' when Alex rings and asks if she'd like to go out to talk some, to have a drink.

Her smile borders on 'happy' some of the time, but there's an overarching sort of sadness that clings to it like a second skin, or maybe just memory. It could just be that, deep inside, Maya is a gentle soul who's been deeply hurt. She's strong, and she does her job well, but there's so much more to her than meets the eye.

Sometimes, when Alex has been drinking too much – so, more and more these days, seeing as Maya's company gives her a reason other than to drink on her own – she wishes she could give Maya other reasons to smile.

Friends: or close enough, more than simple acquaintances. They talk a lot about Maya's relationship with Sam, how sometimes she means to go visit him but never makes it out the front door, about her accident that never happened, how Maya still insists that it had. It's a puzzle that she needs to piece together, her interest not lessening in the slightest.

She spent a lot of time at Sam's bedside in the beginning. She was helping Ruth Tyler out, looking after Sam, juggling the pieces of his life that he couldn't tend to himself. Alex sometimes thinks she should ask Maya if she ever spoke to Sam directly. It might be a mental thing, but she's aware of the importance of talking to comatose patients.

She never finds the right words, or the right moment, and when it's close enough she just doesn't feel it's appropriate.

They talk about other things. The motorcycle Maya rides, the one that was a gift from her uncle Ravi. How she smokes, only not always, because the need is always dependent on the mood.

Bad habits – cigarettes, and motorcycles as well – but no one is perfect.

How Molly keeps asking if Maya can give her a ride on it, and how Alex will never ever just say 'yes'. She wouldn't be caught dead riding the thing – maybe a bad choice of words – and her daughter certainly won't ever ride one either. Well, at least until Molly's grown up and Alex isn't able to make up her mind for her anymore.

Isn't that what being a mum is? Raise them and hope you do right by them, help them grow into the sort of adult they deserve to be. The sort that would engender personal pride.

She wonders, a lot, if her mum would have been proud of the adult Alex has grown into.

She'll never know.

Maya's somewhat subdued this time around, and Alex is sure she knows why. The plan is made: they'll meet at the Red Lion in fifteen minutes, Maya living that much closer to the place. She still finds it hard to believe it the sort of pub that Maya would go to in the first place, only now Alex is doing the same thing. It's developing into a habit, one of the nicer ones in her life.

'Hey.'

Maya doesn't frown as much these days. She still looks at Alex like she's looking for something, and Alex hopes that – in time – she can help her find it. Tonight she's not doing much emoting at all, only giving a nod of her head to accompany the verbal half of her greeting.

'May I have a seat?' Always professional, always polite.

Another nod, just as sombre. 'Why not? Don't think you'd leave, even if I asked you to.' She grins, the faintest stretch of her lips, something that helps softens the sharp edges of her words. 'I ordered us a bottle already.'

'Red or white?' Alex asks, taking her seat.

'Red this time.'

They've settled into this friendship with the greatest of the ease, the long stretches of silence where no words are spoken and yet something is still being said. A whole lot gets said on top of all that, and Alex looks at it and knows it just means that their personalities are very well matched. They don't work in the same division, but if they did, she's certain they'd make a good team.

The waiter brings over their bottle, their glasses, drops those things off and then exits without making much of a show to interrupt them. Alex picks at her napkin. 'I'm guessing you heard?'

'Mhmm. His mum called me. He... he's woken up.' Alex had wondered at this moment and now she's seeing it unfold before her – the uncertainty in Maya's voice, the confusion that's lurking in the darkness of her eyes, the way she almost smiles but then she's shaking her head instead.

She reaches for the bottle, for the corkscrew, shrugs as she hesitates, stares across the table at Alex instead. 'She asked me if I was going to come up to visit him, and I...'

'Do you think you will?' Another quick shake of her head. Maya twists the cork out of the bottle, the pop that follows afterwards, Alex holds out one glass and then the other, letting Maya fill them both in turn.

And then, after that, as they quietly sip at their drinks, Maya decides to pop the bubble of their silence the same way she'd popped the top from the bottle. Suddenly, and effectively.

'I... I don't think it would really be appreciated, you know?' She looks, in a word, nervous. Almost lost. 'Ruth means well, her wanting me there to be there and all, but I did break up with her son while he was in a coma, and I... I don't...' She shakes her head, swallows down the rest of that sentence as she swallows down a mouthful of her wine. 'I don't think Sam would want to see me after that. I... I don't even know if I want to see _him_.'

'I could... we could always drive up there together?'

Maya's eyes widen slightly, she nips at her bottom lip. Tempted, she looks properly tempted, because Maya might not know what she wants but Alex knows that this would be beneficial for the both of them. It would definitely help Maya work at her issues – for all she'd broken up with Sam while he was unable to respond, actually speaking to him would do her a world of good.

Which 'both of them' does she mean?

That longing look slips away, and Maya shakes her head, her lips straining as she forces a cheery smile. 'Thanks for the offer, Alex, but... no thanks. I know where I'm needed, and it isn't in Manchester.' She's going for glass once more, and Alex finally reaches for her own. It's not the house wine, something sweeter – more fruit, less oak, and she savours the taste of it in her mouth before swallowing it down.

After that, well, she knows just what else she needs to say. She's disappointed that Maya doesn't want to go with her, but Alex understands that it's something she can't just force. '...alright then. We'll have to get together for another drink after I get back.'

Maya nods, smiles at her from behind her glass – not forced this time, just sad. '...yeah, maybe we should.'

It's a slow process for both Maya and Sam, because Alex knows he won't just wake up from the months he's been sleeping and integrate back into his typical day to day without some issues developing.

Maya's been awake all that time, so she's had a head start.

–  
–

'You made it.'

'Free food _and_ drinks? Wild horses couldn't keep me away.'

They stand there with the open door between them. Alex can count the number of times Maya has been over to her flat and it hasn't involved picking Molly up from school and then dropping her off. Not on the motorcycle of course. Besides that two-wheeled monstrosity, she also has a car.

Maya has a way of moving into a room and making it her own, not by any grand ostentatious acts or loud shouting, but by the steadiness of her silence instead, that and the hard steel in her eyes. She owns the Red Lion the way she owns the hallway outside Alex's flat, the way she dominates her workspace without trying.

She stays over with Molly when Alex hasn't got home from work yet, helps her figure out difficult problems in her homework – she never just answers it for her, which Alex respects. The way she sees Maya interact with Molly makes her wonder if she'd wanted children of her own, a future possibility if she'd continued her relationship with Sam.

He's awake now. She could patch up the tattered pieces of that if she wanted to, mend it and make it strong again, _whole_ – or, in the very least, say something at all, take the first step. Ruth Tyler has asked her up to visit multiple times – Alex knows, Maya tells her – but she always finds some reason to politely decline.

It seems like Ruth's the only one who's trying to do any mending. Therapy takes up Sam's days, physical and psychological as well, all he needs to accomplish if he hopes to be allowed back to work. Work devours Maya's. Alex will be getting her tapes from Sam soon, she thinks – she's talked to him some, but this is it: this will be the big reveal.

'...so.'

Maya's still waiting on her, dressed in a manner that's sharp yet casual – she's good at that, how effortless it seems. The clothing always hangs on her nicely, accentuates her form. It's doing that right now.

Had Alex been staring?

'Oh. Right.' Alex laughs, shakes her head. She doesn't blush, though she very easily could have. 'Come in.'

Maya does, sparing a small smile in her direction. Molly spots her immediately, makes a mad dash for her. It hadn't meant to become a habit, only it has – she was only meant to pick Molly up the once – but it's happened more and more often as the months have slipped on by.

Alex feels that Evan is slipping away as well, and she doesn't know how that makes her feel.

She closes the front door, locks it, turns around and watches her daughter hug the woman who is – Alex is fully confident – edging closer and closer towards being her best friend. Her smiles towards Molly don't carry any of that lingering sadness, as though she fully comes alive in her young daughter's eyes. She'd make a good mum, that proper blend of stern but compassionate. Alex is fully confident of that as well.

Molly doesn't make it all the way to midnight, falling asleep hours before. Maya carries her to her bedroom, and Alex is the one who tucks her in. The silence after that is thick, and precious, not the sort that needs to be interrupted. If it did break, it would shatter like glass and blow away like dust – and somehow, there'd just be no piecing it back together again.

They sit in the lounge together and sip champagne, nibble finger foods, make small talk but don't actually say a whole lot. Maya's made of dream stuff in the candlelight, warm and golden, and as the new year is rung in, she presses a soft kiss to Alex's cheek.

'Happy new year.' It seems to work, not that Alex knew what else to say.

'Here's hoping it's a better one than the last.'

–  
–

It isn't.

It starts well – the weather is a good deal better than is typical at the start of the year. Molly keeps telling her how she should let Aunty Maya take her for a ride on her motorcycle. Her sense of self preservation intact, Alex always manages some polite variation of 'no thank you'. She'll run out of them eventually.

Her resistance is wearing down. Eventually Maya will say the right thing, smile the right smile, and Alex's resolve will fade on into nothing. She thinks about it sometimes, the wind running wild through her hair – she'd wear a helmet, of course, but for the sake of daydreaming she can fudge about with the details – and it's true, it does feel exhilarating.

Her arms about Maya's waist, holding on for dear life...

That is one thing in the grand scheme of everything. She'll give in to it eventually, and she holds out on it for now.

She didn't see it coming – if she had then she would have done something, said something, but the news of Sam Tyler's death (his suicide) has Alex reeling from shock. She never knew him very well, an acquaintance passing on as a colleague, and his jump from the roof of the GMP was...

Something she didn't see coming, but she should have. What he suffered, and what he thought he had experienced... there's no denying that a fantasy world such as the one he'd concocted would still have a strong pull on his psyche.

A very strong one, one that pulled him over the edge.

No, what happened, it's certainly no surprise.

'Maya?'

'Go away.'

She thought she'd knock, that Maya would meet her at the door and let her in. She would have been tear- stained, of course, badly shaken in the aftershock that was the news of Sam's death. She never saw him again with her own two eyes, but the phone calls she got from Ruth always praised his recovery. Maya passed it on with a sense of happiness, one that was tinged by guilt, and doubt.

Self-doubt, self-loathing, and now...

There'd been no answer, and seeing that the front door to Maya's flat was unlocked, so Alex had let herself in. She hadn't expected she'd find her in the kitchen, on the floor, a half-empty bottle of whisky at her side, a discarded packet of cigarettes there to keep her company as well. Her mood being lower than abysmal, there's certainly a need.

Given the tear-damp state of her face, maybe she needs something stronger.

'Maya... if you need to talk, I'm here for you.'

'...why wasn't I there for him? Why did he...?'

Maya shakes her head, hides her face against her arm – her shoulders shudder as she sobs, but she doesn't make a sound. The silence tears Alex's heart to pieces, and she finds her way to Maya's side. Sits beside her. She could sit here and not speak at all, but she needs to put some effort in. There has to be something she can say.

There isn't.

'You... I really don't know what to say.'

Doesn't she always know what to say? She acts like it, or at least that's just part of the job. Maya lowers her arm, stares at her – more longing, so much loss, chipped up pieces of the both blended into one broken mess – and she laughs bitterly, breaking apart.

'She wants me to... to come to his funeral. I... I can't... I can't go on my own.'

Alex nods, knows what Maya needs from her without it having been put to words. 'We'll drive up there together.'

Another laugh – no humour at all – that lessens into dry sobbing instead, Maya holding it all in. Alex slides one arm around her, squeezes the hand that's closest. She can't give her anything else right now, but she can gladly give her this.

–  
–

It says something about the mother, how she stands beside her son's grave, quietly accepting. There's nothing Ruth Tyler can do to unmake Sam's decision, and she's accepted it as fact – he was comatose for months, there must have been some part of her that already thought he'd never wake up.

Then he did, and he proved them all wrong, but it hadn't been enough.

It fits the greyness of the day, as for the time being even the clouds seem understanding of the importance of the moment. Alex can taste the rain in the air, she knows the storm will eventually roll in, flow across everything and wash this misery away. For now, the clouds are passing over, and the rain seems like such a distant thing.

Maya stays in Alex's shadow, hovers at her side. She's not one for mincing her words, she always says what's needed, though more and more often – at least between her and Alex – a lot more gets done without the added burden of any words being tossed into the mix.

She's at a loss here, wrapped in colours of mourning, her eyes damp and her spirit bled dry. Alex squeezes her hand, and Maya smiles right back at her. It's a beautiful smile, even when it's so beaten down by sorrow it could be a thing limping. Maya squeezes her hand in return, and moves away with new courage in her steps.

She heads towards Ruth, and they speak in low tones, and the tears start like a downpour of rain, the sort that never plans to stop. There's hugging, and something louder than the rest: 'I'd have come... I'm sorry... I should have come.'

'He made up his mind, love,' Ruth calmly replies. 'He made a promise, you know. He was always going back.'

The frown Maya gives her sticks to her lips until she returns to Alex's side.

'Well?'

'She seems to have accepted it.'

'That's good, you know.'

'I want to... how could he? How?'

The sky was grey already, and now that it's waited its turn, the first cool droplets of rain have begun falling. Alex tucks her arm about Maya, Maya leaning her head against her shoulder, and they move towards the cars with the rest of the attendees.

'We might never know.'

'Might?' There's bitterness lurking in the softness of that one word. Bitterness, and despair, and anger that's boiling close to the surface – she's never seen Maya properly roused to anger, but she imagines it will be as dark and foreboding as the most terrible of storms.

It putters out beneath the pitter-patter of the rain. Maya's too tired, too worn down by her sorrow, breathing in the weather-damp air and letting it carry her along. It will rise up again, she's sure – Maya's hardly gone through the five stages of loss and grief.

There's a memorial to attend, family and friends and those few, like herself and Maya, who slipped in through the cracks. Sam will be remembered the way he wasn't at the end, the way it always goes.

Alex tightens her hold on Maya. This is for the best, but it would be better if they could just both go home. 

–  
–

It's not a case of doctor-patient confidentiality now that Sam is dead, and if it is then Alex feels it necessary to bend the rules. The place Sam believes he went to was as real as anything else, more real than the world he's left behind, and if Alex doesn't offer something to Maya – and quickly – she's afraid she'll see her friend shatter herself to pieces. To ashes. Less than that, dust.

'Hey. Molly was asking after you. You haven't forgotten her birthday, have you?'

Molly's name brings a smile to Maya's lips. 'No, I haven't – I'll be there.' A pause, simple hesitation on Maya's part. 'Come in. Can't just leave you standing in the hall, can I?'

Alex hangs her coat in the hall, and follows Maya in. Her flat's less than tidy – she's still in a state of mourning after all, shock and grief on top of disbelief, and Alex needs to do something before she loses her completely. Gone are their days of quiet companionship in the pub, of drinking about nothing and everything, of trying to make sense of Maya's part in the story of it all.

Now the other half of her story is dead, and she's fading away in her depression. Alex can see it. The general lack of tidiness about her flat says a lot about that. Maya just can't find it in her to care.

'There's something... there's something you need to hear. You have a tape player?'

Maya nods. She drifts through the hall to the lounge beyond it, the state of the art stereo system with its dated tape player. 'This do? Sam...' She grimaces, shakes her head. 'It doesn't matter.'

'It's perfect.'

She watches while Alex turns it on, switches it to the proper auxiliary, takes the tape in its case from her pocket. 'Sit down. This... it isn't long, but you'll probably find it easier to listen to it if you're sitting down.'

'What is it?'

'It's from Sam. You know... I was interested in what he had to say after woke from his coma. This was it.'

Maya nods, something unreadable passing over her face, the darkness in her eyes. She sits down in the centre of the settee, places her hands on her knees, _waits_. Alex pushes the play button, but doesn't move to sit beside her. She's heard these words a hundred times, now, she knows them by heart.

'My name is Sam Tyler...' 

Maya's hooked in an instant. There's a minute pause followed by a subtle shift forward, her attention focused on Sam's voice, on each word that he says.

'I had an accident and I woke up in 1973.'

She's standing right at the stereo now, right beside Alex in fact, her hand tracing the outline of it.

'I had no idea if I was mad...'

A grimace, the faintest thing.

'...or if I was in a coma, or...'

The rapid blinking of her eyes.

'If I'd gone back in time.'

A frown, Maya leaning forward – Alex doesn't know if it would be right to put an arm around her, but Maya seems so needy, so _lost_ , and...

'It was like I'd woken up on a different planet.'

And she needs to do something, anything. Find another good start.

'But I knew that if I could find out the _reason_... that I could get home. DI Sam Ty – '

A pause, another grimace, the tears in Maya's eyes.

' _DCI_ Sam Tyler, Greater Manchester Police.'

She's trembling now, finger pressed against the stop button. Maya's tense, she's going to crack, but as she tenses her jaw and moves her finger to the rewind button, she takes the tape back to the start. The second time Maya listens through, she can't stop the tears from falling down her face, the undignified sniffles that join in as accompaniment.

'There's more – details, you know. The people, the places... Gene Hunt, oh, he was a very fascinating figure. What I'd give to meet him myself.' She knows just how daft that sounds, and the way that Maya is looking at her now, the wideness of her eyes and the blankness of her expression, Maya certainly doesn't look at it and think interesting. No, she only sees the reason that Sam had died.

'What...?'

Her finger hesitates over the rewind button. 'What did you do to him?' Alex's fingers twitch, aching to reach over, to brush at Maya's tears.

'Maya – ' She's shaking her head, still standing so close, and all Alex needs to do is open her arms and take Maya in.

'He was... he was... unwell... He wasn't a coward, Alex – Sam's the strongest, bravest person I've ever know. Yeah, he was married to the job when I would have liked it he'd been married to me instead, but he... ' She stops, breathes out, swallows it back in, shaking her head in simple, utter bewilderment, disbelief that stabs straight through. 'What did you _do_ to him?'

She hadn't done anything, only asked the right questions – she still thinks they were the right ones, no matter what had ended up happening. 'He went somewhere, Maya, and it was real to him – the people, the places. The effect that had on his psyche – '

'Damn his psyche! What did you do to _Sam_? He never would have killed himself – if you hadn't pushed at him, prodded him like some sort of bloody guinea pig, he never would have... he never would have...' 

Never would have jumped? It's not like Alex had been the one who made him jump...

She laughs, laughs as she cries, looks at Alex like she might scream some more and then shoves herself close. Alex widens her arms about her, then folds them in turn, finally giving into that simple urge to pull Maya into a hug. She's pressed up so close – the heat of her body, the way she trembles, faint as a panicked bird.

'I... I thought it was me... I should have gone to him... I should have saved him from you.'

'Maya... I don't condone what he did, but it was real to him – what he did was...'

'Go away.'

'What?'

It's muffled, Maya's reply, the shock rolling through Alex. Her own disbelief, spawned in the heat of Maya's words.

'I said, go away. You've outlived your welcome here, DI Drake.'

She steps back, or maybe Maya is the one who pulls away, and in all the time they've known each other, she's never seen Maya _angry_. She's glaring now, her gaze is burning Alex alive, and she needs to take it all back only Alex is a smart woman, she knows she never can.

'I... I'll call you tomorrow.'

Maya shakes her head, scowling now, her eyes dark, her voice so soft Alex can't deny the danger: 'I won't answer.'

'I'm not leaving this alone.' She hadn't meant to add to it, she'd only meant to help, and if Maya could only just _see_ that, then –

Maya laughs, but it's bitter, twisting thing that she forces out – she's certainly not laughing because she's happy. No, her face still damp from her tears, it's certainly not happiness at all. There's an edginess there that Alex is sure she's never witnessed, something beyond dangerous.

'Right – stalk me some more. I'll inform the proper channels this time. You ruined Sam, but you won't ruin me.'

Alex is bowled over by her words, stuck in a moment where she feels time passing on by her, though she herself is untouched. Maya's never been so intensely real as she is right now, real and _angry_ , angry and beautiful, and Alex's first knee-jerk reaction is let the anger well up inside her too. Tide and riptide, pushing and pulling them both apart.

Maya's being silly, _stupid_ , and narrow-minded on top of all that to think that Alex had anything to do with Sam's death. A hundred retorts sit heavily on her tongue, just waiting for the right moment – all she needs to do is open her mouth, and the right moment has been found.

Only that makes her think, she could lose Maya forever.

And she's lost her already, if Maya succeeds in pushing her away.

Because she can't have that, can she? Not when she's found someone who completes her the way no one else ever has, a friend like no other. Somehow who fills up the emptiness in her life. And it had been empty.

So she stuffs it down, all she wants to say, what she really thinks, nods and reaches out to pop the tape from the player. It doesn't make the anger leave her, it's still hot in her veins, that and the insistence that she's done no wrong. This isn't over, but if she pushes too hard there's no chance she'll be able to fix this, and this is a break that has to be allowed to mend.

Give Maya some time, and then... she can fix this, she knows she can. They've come too far to lose everything, and all in this narrow sliver of a moment that amounts to nothing more than a fit of grief and rage.

Right... all she has to do is give Maya some time.

Time... it's moving on again, Alex sliding back into the flow of it, stepping back into the reality of the waking world. She forces a smile, but it seems fake, airbrushed on, sharply contrasted to how hyper-real Maya seems.

'I... you call me, then. Whenever you want to. I'll always makes time for you, Maya.'

She wants to help, she was only trying to help... in any other instance, she'd make an issue about that, not step back meekly and let Maya have her way. Maya needed to cope, and this isn't good for her – it isn't healthy – and she could force the truth of it down Maya's throat, but where would that get here? Nowhere. It's got her that far already.

She's making excuses now, isn't she? She's already had an inner monologue about the bloody situation, of course the excuses would follow along, like ducks arranged in a neat little line.

Maya doesn't answer, she only glares hotly, dousing her own fire and leaving Alex with her insides feeling like they've been carved from ice. She's not saying anything, and Alex wishes for _something_. What she's left with is silence that certainly says a whole bloody lot of nothing, as well as leaving a bad taste in her mouth.

So she smiles: friendly, professional, though it's too late for either of those things. She flips the tape over in her hand, puts it away, takes her coat as well and leaves.

How could it have gone like this... she'd only meant to help, she certainly hadn't meant to harm.

Just for now, there's no point in turning back.

–  
–

She messed it up, she really did. In a hope to help Maya understand what Sam had gone through, and in doing so, cope with it and move on, she'd only made it into more of a mess.

She yells at herself and has to explain her outbursts to Molly, because she's young and she doesn't get it – she knows something is wrong, though she's not clear on the what. Not that Alex does a very good job of explaining what's going on.

Her daughter's sharp, maybe she doesn't really get it but she still knows something is off. If Alex isn't careful, Molly will stick her nose into it and try and fix it up herself. She really doesn't need that. She doesn't need anything else, all piled on top of her, but definitely not that.

What she needs is... Maya, some time to talk, some time to make sense of a very non-sensible thing. To really push her case, because Maya doesn't understand. Alex is at a real loss here. She needs to fix this.

Time. More time. It'll be fine, she just needs to give it some more time.

Until then, Alex needs to start repressing it instead of making a blown-out show of it. That will help. If she's angry, she can stew on it, let it simmer, and eventually when she and Maya do finally talk again... it'll either go very well, or it won't.

Not that Alex had expected anything else, but Maya doesn't call.

–  
–

Maya shows up at Molly's birthday because she said she would. Sam always kept his promises, but Maya does too. She's making a point of that, and it's bitter-sweet tinged with something else. Longing, the same longing that had always been there, lurking beneath the surface. So close to just bubbling to the top.

She leaves, and Alex is sick inside, sad and hurt and angry. She wants to make an issue of it, a bigger one than what's already been made, but if she does that then she's really nailing the hammer into the coffin.

Time, time... why does it pass by so bloody slowly?

Maya still has questions, Alex still needs answers, and they both just need more _time_.

–  
–

Summer passes on by in a hurry, and autumn rushes in on grey clouds days that grow steadily cooler. She calls Maya, though Maya never answers, and a lot of empty time passes on in the in between before Alex finally finds it in her to leave a message. This was easier before, and through simple analysis she should be able to figure out why it's become so much harder: but it just isn't that simple.

It's never going to be simple again, cut and dry: getting to know Maya has complicated everything.

Alex has known Maya for what seems like forever now, or close enough, and she doesn't think she has it in her to make a legal issue out of this. No, that would just put the focus on her as well, ask too many questions. None of them being the ones that Maya wants asked.

No, Maya's acting like it never happened, nothing at all, and Alex really needs to keep it together. She hadn't thought she'd miss Maya the way she does, and it isn't s simple as saying one of them had been right and one of them had been wrong. It's something that happened, something that Maya took the wrong way completely.

Maybe it would have been better if Alex had never mentioned Sam again at all. Then Maya could have smothered herself in that sadness and limped on through the grieving process on her own. Limped on, perhaps crashed and burned. She doesn't even know if Maya's still in love with Sam, or if it's something else. Grief does have a way of throwing a spanner into the gears.

And beyond all that, Alex misses her, the closeness, having someone to talk to, to drink with, to.... to be her friend. If she could take back what she'd said, would she? To get that back? Because she misses Maya now like she'd long after an amputated limb.

This really isn't good. She knows it isn't. It hints at something more, longing for more than just companionship. There's a hole in her life now and only Maya could fill it, and admitting that would cause her world to collapse down around her. It's already leaning rather badly to the right.

She throws herself into her work, tries to focus on something else – it's hard to do that, because Maya keeps on getting in the way, very rarely directly. The desire to make it right is pushing all the wrong buttons but Alex doesn't really see a way of turning it back. Maybe Sam thought otherwise, and maybe his jump off the building was a leap into the _known_ , but Alex knows there's no such thing as time travel.

Because if there was, she would do anything she could to turn back time and fix the entirety of this whole bloody mess.

–  
–

She hasn't been here in months. Maybe some of the faces have changed, but it's still the same old pub – that's just the way things go. Alex shouldn't be here, but she felt a pull towards it as winter passed over the city. She's bundled up against the cold, and there's a dozen other places she should be, only she's here instead.

Maybe that means she needs a drink. One, and then another, and if she drinks enough then maybe everything else will, like a dream she's woken up from, simply fade away.

Alex has a lot of experience with that of late.

She gets a glass of the house white wine, claims one of the empty tables as her own. It's a slow day, and most of them are in that same, almost sad, empty state. She presses the glass to her lips, sips at the drink, but she doesn't really feel like simply draining it down. It's nostalgic, bitter-sweet, and she doesn't even seem to taste the wine as she swallows it. She's left smiling so widely that it hurts.

It seems like fate is stepping in as Maya pushes her way in through the front door. She's seen her about at work, but they haven't a direct face to face talk for... Alex pauses, thinks about it. Since she'd been run from Maya's flat. She had that coming to her – she'd really put her foot in it that night, still believing she'd done no wrong. She's been a lot of things, confused and hurt and guilty, and Alex knows this is it. It either goes well, or it doesn't.

She'd just been asking for it to all crash down around her. Now she's stepping through the pieces, careful to not hurt herself anymore.

Maya sees her, fetches a glass of wine from the bartender before she makes a straight line for Alex's table. She doesn't even try to hide it, Alex being her end destination.

She seems nervous, shifting from one foot to the other before she's able to keep still. 'I needed some... some space.' It isn't much, but it might just be all that Alex is due. She could ask for more, but wouldn't that be greedy? She could be greedy, if that was what was needed.

She nods, smiles because she can, and it's softer now than it had been mere moments before. 'Care to have a seat?'

Maya smiles right back at her, and it might just be the most beautiful thing that Alex has ever seen – though she's always liked Maya's smile, and is she only just now seeing that? There's no leftover sorrow in this one, just simple joy that radiates outwards, something new and timid: because Maya wants to talk to her at all, because Maya knows she was in the wrong just the same as Alex had been, because it's clear they've both missed each other.

It could be all of those things, or it could be none.

Maya sets her glass down and slides into the seat across from her, expression gone somewhat soft and sombre. Alex reaches for her, stops, but Maya stretches out her arm and slides her hand over Alex's.

'I'm sorry.'

'I am too.'

'Friends still?'

'For as long as you care to have me around.'

They're both smiling like utter morons, and Alex feels the burn of tears in her eyes. She dashes them away, and Maya gives her hand a squeeze, one that's nearly too tight. She likes it, she missed it – she's already grown used to having it in her life again.

She needs to try harder this time. Nearly losing Maya, that was almost too much. She knows it's not all her fault, but it's clear that Maya sees that as well, so just as long as she tries harder, she gets the feeling Maya will exert the proper amount of effort as well.

'I was thinking we could maybe...' Maya's voice trails off into nothingness, settles into silence.

'What?'

'That we could... talk about... Sam, some more? I want to know... I want to know what he told you, Alex. As much as you feel comfortable in telling me, that is.'

'I... are you sure?'

Maya nods, leans in closer, dark hair tumbling forward over her shoulders. The sad smile on her lips, small and soft, the way the pub's twinkling lights reflect in the depths of her eyes. 'I... yeah, I am. Needed some space. Got that and more. I want to know... I want to try and understand what was going on in his head, and you... you're the only one who can help me. If that's... if that's okay?'

Now it's Alex's turn to nod. 'It is. I only ever meant to help.'

'I know that, I... I think I always knew. The truth was a bit harder to swallow. And maybe...'

'Maybe?'

'Maybe it would help me come to terms with my... my experience as well.'

Another nod. She could say something else – _I understand_ , perhaps – but the intent is obvious.

Maya leans back, flips her hair back over her shoulders. 'I'll make it up to you and Molly both – how does that sound?' She nips at her lower lip, looks thoughtful. 'Come to mine for Christmas dinner?'

'I... I'd love that. I'm sure Molly will too, she... she's really missed you.'

She could call Maya on any number of things, on being the obstinate one in the first place – that none of this would have happened if it hadn't been for her. Only Alex knows a good thing when she sees it, and maybe Maya's the best thing that's walked into her life in a long, long time. Maya wouldn't have shoved back if Alex hadn't been pushing hard in the first place.

'Great – it's a date then.' A smile, a simple one, though it's just as lovely.

The wording can't be intentional, but it still makes her smile in return. It's complicated but that doesn't mean it's not worthwhile – most complicated things are. There's a lot more that Maya wants to say, but the time isn't right – she can see it, lurking in her eyes, pure and simple anticipation. Maybe the right time will happen soon.

Still...

'A date?'

Maya's grin, gone a bit cocky. 'Yeah.'

She smiles, turns away. Maya's suddenly a bit too dazzling for her to take in all at once.

'I can't wait.'

If Alex looks at it like that, it's hardly their first one.

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as one thing and turned into something else entirely. It's a bit of backstory for Alex and Maya (the way I see them, the way they exist in the... grand scheme of the stuff I've been writing), and it will eventually lead to a couple other stories featuring the two of them. One of my oldest pieces of fanfic (so awful I never thought to post it) had Maya transferring south to London after Sam's accident. I didn't know about Alex at the time, and eventually it seemed clear that it was very likely the two of them would meet. So then this story happened. It spans from an undetermined time during Sam's coma to after the end of 2x08 (so there's some spoilers for that). It's not a fluffy story but it's not completely angst laden... though there is plenty of angst. I'm popping a _'character death'_ warning on it because... well... you know. *cough* Spoilers for 2x08, remember? This story definitely went some places I wasn't expecting it to.
> 
> Some of this dialogue is lifted nearly word from [this drabble](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2812283) of mine.
> 
> Title lifted from Of Monsters and Men's _'Little Talks'_.
> 
> One last thing: I've only seen three episodes of Ashes to Ashes. This is a pre-Ashes story, though the continuity it exists in is going to lead to an alternate take on what that story might have been. So this isn't Ashes Alex, it's... 2006+ Alex. I'm pretty pleased with how I wrote her though, **xysabridde** thought she was lovely. ♥


End file.
